


Starting Over

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Stubborn Harry, Stubborn Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things so ingrained in a person's psyche they cannot be changed by force of will alone. Sometimes it really does take two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starting Over

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Christmas present for the very lovely alisanne, who gave the prompt “introduction”. Originally posted to Livejournal in 2013.

Severus had never wished to be an Animagus or a Metamorphagus, but he did respect the ease with which changing their appearance came to them. Of course potions were just as useful in disguises, and at least the one that he had devised didn't taste quite as awful as that of Wolfsbane. It was strange though, having to practice a new walk, a new way of speaking, a new way of thinking. But never once did he think it wasn't worth it, or that it wasn't necessary. Even after his name was officially pardoned in the Daily Prophet he knew that it was safer to stay hidden, to stay as someone else.

Rigil Kent was a name that was taking a little bit of getting used to, but he had at least perfected his signature to his own exacting standards. And this new life he was forging for himself was a decent one; providing potions by mail order meant that he could avoid seeing anyone except for when he needed ingredients that had to be carefully examined in person and he never advertised his services for potions that were too intricate, lest his secret get out.

His life was exactly as he wanted it. He could do as he pleased, when he pleased, a luxury that was not to be underestimated. He could spend all day in bed should he so wish, though laziness had never been part of his make-up before now, and he didn't think that Rigil Kent was the lazy sort either. But it was nice to have the option.

And then the letters started.

They were merely perfunctory enquiries at first, standard questions about Ashwinder eggs, knotgrass and puffer-fish eyes but then it became more detailed, more exacting. It became very clear that the person writing – who styled themselves as Professor Anonymous – was interested in the Wolfsbane potion. It also occurred to Severus that they had first set out to prove themselves as equal to Severus' knowledge before asking more technical questions. Whoever this Anonymous was, Severus was impressed. And also wary – entering into any kind of correspondence with this person would make it harder for Severus to conceal his identity. And yet...

...and yet Severus could not deny that he did miss human contact after all. When he had been holed up in his dungeon office, he had always known that he had only to step outside and he would be surrounded by people, some of whom he would even have described as friends. Before the Attack on Hogwarts that was, when everything had changed even more than after Dumbledore's death. The fact that he hadn't always taken the chance to talk in the Staff Room as much as the others was beside the point, because he had, hadn't he? Despite everything he _had_ been a member of the faculty, a part of something that didn't involve death and the worship of evil, even if it still had involved lying.

He stood up abruptly and put the latest letter he had received into the fire. There was no point in continuing this. No point at all.

* * * * * *

The letters kept on coming. And eventually Severus realised that he couldn't ignore them, because they simply would not stop. Whoever was sending them was as stubborn a wizard as he had ever seen. And there was absolutely nothing endearing about it. Nothing.

Severus sighed and re-read the latest missive. Anonymous wanted to meet. He, for Severus was certain that that the writer was male, talked about wanting to learn more and how that could only be done in person.

This was undoubtedly true. The artistry of potion making could not be learned from books alone. You had to feel and smell and touch. You had to _know_ a potion and its properties and you could only teach that level of detail of understanding by careful personal observation. And even then you needed that extra spark to be a truly great potion master.

Severus summoned his owl and sent a curt reply, agreeing to the time and place of meeting Anonymous had stipulated.

Perhaps living dangerously was more appealing than he had originally surmised.

Or perhaps he had simply lost his mind.

* * * * *

The restaurant was quiet, discreet and tastefully chosen for both its location and its ownership – Squibs who would not ask unnecessary questions. Yet Severus' nerves as he took all this in did not dissipate and in fact grew as he was informed that he was the first to arrive.

He sat down and ordered a glass of wine. He'd developed a fondness for it during his travels around the Continent. Or rather Rigil had.

He studied the menu, although he wasn't feeling at all hungry. He wondered now if a dinner had been such a good idea. He wondered if this was some sort of elaborate hoax.

As his wine arrived the possibility that this was in fact a date occurred to him for the first time and he nearly spat the wine out.

“No,” he muttered to himself. Surely not. Surely the vaguely flirtatious manner of their letters had all been in his imagination. Professor Anonymous was just responding in kind. Anonymous had just wanted information and found flattery worked on Rigil Kent as well as it did on anybody. (Though perhaps a little more work had been needed, but Anonymous hadn’t seemed to mind and Severus was sure that Rigil hadn't let anything slip that he shouldn't have...)

Severus found that he was about to stand up and leave when a voice called out to him.

“Mr Kent? Rigil Kent?”

He froze in place and then slowly sank down into his chair. Of course. Of course. How had he been so blind?

“I'm sorry about the subterfuge, but, well...”

“Your name is very well known,” Severus said in a monotone.

“Well, yes.”

And all Snape could do was curse Merlin to the end's of the earth, as Harry Potter sat down opposite him.

“Have you ordered yet?”

Severus shook his head, still uncertain if he was staying. And then uncertain about his uncertainty. Surely he never used to be this indecisive?

“Mr Kent - “ Harry stopped, and bit his bottom lip. For all that he was a grown man he still looked impossibly innocent. “Would you like to go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?”

Severus could only imagine the look he sent Harry's way, as Harry immediately started backtracking.

“No, no, I just meant, that...” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “ _I know who you are.”_

Severus disapparated immediately.

* * * * *

Severus should have known better. Harry Potter was nothing if not tenacious and it was a scant six months after their first introduction before Professor Anonymous was knocking on the hotel room door of Rigil Kent.

Severus flicked his wand at the same moment that Harry did, and their hexes bounced off each other and around the room landing fairly harmlessly on two half-dying plants by the window.

“Auror training going well, I see.”

Harry shrugged. “I learned most of it fighting Voldemort.”

Severus held back his twitch at Voldemort's name. Just.

“I suppose nothing I say will get you to stop harassing me.”

“I'm following you. Not harassing you. And no, nothing you say will stop me.”

Resigned, Severus stepped aside and let Harry into the room.

It was a small, functional room that he had booked himself into on a whim, knowing that the owners, whilst Muggles themselves, had a child at Hogwarts and were used to not asking uncomfortable questions. The truth was he had grown tired of hiding out in unpopulated areas and uncertain exactly why he was hiding in the first place. He had been exonerated. He had no reason to hide. Least of all from Harry Potter. The man who had seen all his hidden desires.

Which of course was the elephant in the room.

“Our introductions didn’t go very well last time, did they?”

Severus snorted. He sat down at his desk and watched Harry warily as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Why do you want to learn how to make Wolfsbane?”

Harry blinked owlishly and then took a deep breath. “Lupin isn't dead.”

Severus nodded. “I see. And Tonks?”

“Not dead either,” Harry replied. He looked confused, and Snape could hardly blame him. But Harry didn’t know all that had gone on in the Order of the Phoenix, nor afterwards. He and Lupin had been friends once, and he recognised the small signs inside of him that he was happy Lupin and his wife were not dead. Because it was two more lives that could not be lain at his door.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

Severus ignored him. “Who is supplying his Wolfsbane at the moment?”

“A Ministry potion-maker. Under duress.”

“I can start making it for him again.”

Harry's jaw dropped and Severus was very tempted to roll his eyes.

“You'd do that?” Harry asked. Severus glared at him and although he was still wearing a different face than the the one Harry was used to, Harry got the point.

“If that's all?”

Harry shook his head, even as he was standing up, as if to go. “You're not going to ask, are you? How I found you? What I really wanted with you? I mean, what I wanted to say to you.” Harry blushed. “Could you? Could you turn back? To how you were before.” Harry moved his hand in a circular motion.

“Why?”

“I'd like to see the real you.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Severus stared at him as he would an interesting specimen in a jar. Finally Severus went into the bathroom.

He could hear Harry moving about the room, picking up and then replacing various items, the floorboard’s creaking as he went. Severus stared at his not-self in the mirror. It was an ordinary face, one that wouldn’t draw attention. But one he had never been able to grow accustomed to.

When he came out of the bathroom he was himself again, and Harry looked much more relaxed when he saw him.

“Much better.”

“I hardly think so,” Snape replied.

“I do,” Harry said. He stepped very close to Severus' personal space and held out his hand. “Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to see you again.” Snape didn't move. “I thought we could have dinner. There’s a nice Italian across the road. Muggle run.”

Maybe it was time to stop running from the inevitable. He hadn't run from Voldemort, why should he run from Harry Potter?

“Very well,” Severus said. He shook Harry's hand, the touch surprisingly warm.

Harry's smile was breathtaking and he started for the door straight away.

“Although,” Severus said, causing Harry to pause on the threshold, “whether it will be your pleasure or mine is still to be decided.”

Harry's startled laugh was definitely worth the heat Severus could feel on his cheeks. He had never been very good at this as a youth, age clearly had not given him any more confidence. But perhaps, for once, he could let Potter take the lead. After all, he did, on occasion, have some very good ideas.


End file.
